The non-commissioned officer of the militia training team did not lie to me, the necessary experience can save your life at a critical moment.

Had it not been for the training camp that had been in my sleep for a month, I would have been unable to avoid the deadly sword in my sleep just now—the sudden attack caused a lightning alertness that tore me from my deep sleep; When I opened my eyes, I was greeted by the sharp sword, and I couldn't help but feel a cold that penetrated my heart and lungs from the bottom of my heart.

It's heart-pounding!

But to be honest, I don't know how I reacted at the time. Perhaps an instinct cultivated over a long period of time, I turned my head sideways at the last moment, causing the sword to graz my ear and stab it.

A Desperate Shot-

Then I saw the black rose emblem of Romanda on the longsword that shone with cold light, and it was set on a boxy iron plate. It took me a moment to make out the thing, "Mardala's army of the undead!" "It's as if a basin of cold water poured from head to toe made me completely sober, ***, how can these things be here?

I distinctly remember that I was vacationing in an old house in the countryside of Buchi, a property left by my grandfather, and I asked the old man of the family to live here temporarily and help him take care of the old house.

My mother was a native of Kadirego, which was about the only closest noble blood in my body. But my father was just an ordinary miller - he was not even like my grandfather, who fought in the famous November War and received the Order of the Candle - but an honest middle-aged man.

And I, I am an ordinary young man who can be seen everywhere in the kingdom, and my biggest dream is to join the army or go out on an adventure and earn a big family business to come back.

Maybe it would be perfect to find a beautiful wife to spend the rest of your life with!

But the fact that there was a terrible undead next to my bed who was trying to kill me now made my heart feel like a mess, but fortunately the things that the instructor taught me on weekdays were still in my head, and I was not thrown out of the clouds because of a mess of thoughts. I thought for a moment that my sword should have been on the edge of the bed, but the skeleton would not have given me a chance to reach for it - now I realized that it was not a good habit, and I would remember to put it under my pillow next time.

Of course, these thoughts were only stored in my plan for a moment.

I instinctively lunged out, rolling out of bed and tearing the bony skeleton standing beside my bed to the ground. At this moment I keep in mind every word that the instructor said in the first practical lesson:

Remember, these Madara's lowest-ranking soldiers, powered by pure soul fire, are slow, unintelligent, and weak-

But before I could finish my thoughts, a tremendous force surged from under me, as if I had suppressed not a skeleton but a bull. All in all, a force that I couldn't resist lifted me out, and slammed into the cabinet on one side. I heard my bones groan with my bookcase, and I gritted my teeth at the sharp pain that spread throughout my body, but I shook my head to shake the dizziness out of it—for I remembered what I was supposed to do, and in my swaying vision, the skeleton had risen upright to pull the sword it had stuck in the bed.

Its movements were indeed stiff, but the strength was not weak, right?

But I was about to turn and run away, for the 'fellow' had drawn his sword and had become a dangerous being again. As for me, I asked myself if I was no match for the Force, or I guess I wouldn't be enough for it to see three more - and the point was that I didn't have any weapons -

My sword is separated by it, and of course I believe it's just a coincidence, because skeletons have no intelligence.

I had just run to the door, and I could not help but cry out for bad luck - for I saw the door of the hall below being slammed open, and a cold moonlight poured in from outside, which was full of poetry, if it were not for the fact that it reflected the skeleton of another white forest.

I noticed that the low-ranking Being, Madara, had apparently just walked in—another steel sword in his hand, a skeleton of Madera's standard chain mail, and a dark helmet.

But what frustrated me the most was that it raised its head and locked on to me with two crimson flames dancing in a pair of black hole eyes.

Looks like it sees me.

There are wolves in front and tigers in the back, which is not a good sign.

Dear Martha, I can't help but pray to the gods in my heart, I am only nineteen years old, and I cannot die in such a poor country so inexplicably.

By the way, I haven't confessed to the woman I like yet. I couldn't help but beat much faster at the thought of that charming young merchant, whose house was across the street from me, and I couldn't put my favorite girl in danger.

I calmed down and tried to find a way out. My mind was racing, and at this time, the lesson of that Master Chief came to my mind.

"Only by calming down can you fight!"

This is in line with my current situation, but I don't have a weapon at hand, and I can't fight a beast with my bare hands. I gasped nervously against the wall as I looked up in a panic, the old mansion was not yet a home, but there was nothing in the hall that could be used as a makeshift weapon.

If only my grandfather had been a great nobleman, I had been to the house of the Earl of Remington, and in their main hall, which was five times the size of the hall, there were many shields, swords, and axes on the walls, and I would have found weapons there with ease.

What's more, my swordsmanship is not bad, this is not my boasting, the old man of the non-commissioned officer personally praised me, saying that my swordsmanship is the best among our students in this class.

Even the Bresson boy wasn't my match, though I always envied his dad who had a magistrate. If my father had been a local governor, I would have been able to join the garrison.

Of course, it's useless to say that now, anyway, there is still the skeleton soldier between my sword and me. Although they can't run, they walk at a speed similar to that of ordinary people, and their movements are a little stiff, but they are only a line slower than an adult.

I'm going to bet I can play it around on the training ground, but I'm going to take a sword when I rush up in such a tight spot.

The two skeletons were getting closer and closer, and the sound of 'clicking' footsteps seemed to hit my heart, and my own heart was beating like thunder.

I was a little at a loss - the skeleton in the bedroom walked out, paused, then turned and walked briskly towards me. I subconsciously took a step back and hit something my back.

Then I remembered that I should have an oil painting hanging on my back, this painting was handed down from my grandfather's generation, it was said to be a family heirloom, and the cripple in Black Pepper Lane once said that he would buy this painting for ten gold coins, but my father refused.

My father was a stubborn old man, but I was not like him, and if it had not happened to me, I would have often thought that I would sell the painting when I was at the end of my life, and then buy a beautiful horse, and go on a voyage to the continent with the lady on the other side of the door who dreamed of being a merchant.

But I can't do that much now, and now this heirloom is going to save my life. I turned around and grabbed the wooden frame of the painting and ripped it off, and at this point I was in no mood to worry about breaking it—it was worth at least ten gold coins, though I suspected it was worth more, for the cripple in Black Pepper Lane was notoriously stingy.

Ten gold coins is a lot of money, and the most money I've seen since I was a kid is about ten silver coins.

I couldn't help but take a breath and feel my hands tremble. I thought I'd wait a moment for me to throw the painting at the terrible undead, slip away from it while it was on guard, and then get my sword and smash the two skeletons to pieces with my swordsmanship.

Of course, I can do the same, but just out into the streets. But I'm not sure if there's something like this out there, and rushing out with your bare hands is just looking for death. Therefore, I made up my mind that it was better to be brave.

Although this is just an idealistic idea, maybe it will give me a sword without doing anything, and then I will go to see Martha-sama later.

I couldn't help but wonder if they would erect a monument for me, which reads-

"Poor Brando, he obviously expected it wrong—"

I shuddered, and hurriedly shook my head to shake out the terrible thought that was hanging in my head like a ghost—and I wouldn't die.

Then I looked at the dusty painting in my hand, and to be honest, I couldn't see anything good about it - it was ten gold coins? I wonder if I will feel sorry for the cripple in Black Pepper Lane who threw it out like this?

But the terrible undead was already at hand, and I had no time to pity the ten gold coins that I was about to lose and the opportunity to travel the continent with the merchant lady, for I had already subconsciously thrown the frame away.

I threw it at a great speed, and the painting flew almost in a straight line towards the skeleton of the white forest, which was wonderful, and the fool consciously raised his sword and slashed it horizontally, and I saw the gray painting tear and pull in mid-air and split into two pieces.

What a force! But fortunately, Master Chief did not lie on key issues, and these skeletons really lacked wisdom.

The question had barely crossed my mind when the person had already subconsciously rushed out.

My bedroom door wasn't far from me, and thanks to Master Martha, I only had to rush out a few more steps to see my sword lying there quietly.

The sword is also one of my family heirlooms, my grandfather used it in battle, and it is said that he served as an attendant to a knight for a time, and this sword was given to him by the knight master.

The sword was supposed to be of the thirty-two years, with the imprint of ivy on it, to commemorate the victory in the battle of the Golan-Elsen plateau.

I remember that year His Majesty changed the system of cavalry swords, changing the length of the sword from the original two arms to one and a half arms, and the bronze ornaments on the gauntlets were also replaced with ordinary iron flowers, in order to save costs to adapt to the 'November War', which was getting longer and longer.

That's right, it was a cavalry sword.

Hmph, just wait for me to get that sword—

"Madara bastards, it's your turn to be unlucky—"